Lilies and Lullabies
by Lady Annabelle II
Summary: Hermione is teaching Transfiguration after the war, and Ron is training to become an Auror. They're happily engaged, but when a shameful secret is unearthed, will Hermione turn to someone else? Mostly DH compliant, except for the obvious. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

"Hey, you." Hermione smiled the greeting. It had been two weeks since she had seen her intended, and boy, had she missed him. Oh, how much things had changed. She recalled all the different obstacles they had overcome, and could hardly comprehend where they were now. The once sharp memory of him, laughing that it was "no wonder she hadn't got any friends" had softened. All the bitter separations, quarrels, stony silences, mixed signals, jealousy and miscommunication paled to memories like their first kiss, him saving her from a troll, and treasured summers at the Burrow.

It had been two years of peace, two years of pre-marital bliss. And finally, after all this time, she could look at her left hand when she was lonely and know that everything was right in the world. No longer were they the young, bickering best friends of Harry Potter; they were mature, distinguished (albeit young) adults. It made her so happy, and yet regretfully wistful at the same time- the old days weren't so bad, between all the near death experiences, ex-lovers and various tragedies... she missed them in a way. But she smiled softly, thinking of how much better a "good old days" her- their- children had to look forward to.

"Hey, yourself, love," Ron grinned back. His smile never changed. He enveloped her in a gentle embrace. Hermione savored the strength and simultaneous tenderness of his arms, breathing against his freckle-dusted neck. He kissed her hair and reached for her hand, and they began walking along the familiar corridor towards Hermione's private rooms.

"How was the mission?" she inquired, eyebrows raised in what she hoped was mere nonchalant curiousity.

"Oh, it was... eh, how to put it?" Ron trailed off, grimacing slightly. "A little too uneventful?" He struggled a bit, before altering his pronouncement. "Completely unproductive, utter rubbish waste of time." He rolled his eyes. Hermione wrinkled her nose in sympathy, and secretly thanked Merlin for this. She had worried more than she allowed him to know.

"I'm sorry, Ron. What made them allot so many resources to it? Was there a tip?" Ron tilted his head side to side, apparently trying to decide the best way to phrase his thoughts.

"Yeah, but from a semi-reliable sources. They were so eager to get a lead on him that they put the cart before the thestral. Sent me and two other trainees, along with three fully-qualified Aurors. It was a bloody flobberworm in the cabbage compost chase. Spent most of my time dawdling," he grumbled.

Hermione was thoroughly perplexed by this strange account, but wrote it off as Ministry incompetency.

"So much damn bureaucracy, 'Mione. It almost makes me envy your job," he grumbled. Hermione laughed. My, my. How times had changed indeed.

"Bureaucracy, huh? Been reading, Ronald?" She gave him a friendly jab in the side. He smiled back at her, if only a little stiffly.

"You know me, love. I'm a regular bookworm. Used to forgo social activities to hole up and read my textbooks for a nightcap." She rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand. She much preferred this comfortable teasing to the merciless battles they'd engaged in during their school years.

"Well, at least you don't have to deal with teacher politics." Her face clouded with mild frustration and dry humor.

"Politics, huh? Like that greasy git from the dungeons?" he joked, half in malice and half in a miscalculated stab at sympathy.

"Ron! You shouldn't call him that! You shouldn't have when we were in school either. He's one of the greatest heroes of the war, both of them! Not to mention what he's done for Harry," she looked at him pointedly. Ron looked slightly remorseful, but also was getting stirred up. His ears were tinted red-they absentmindedly had let go of one another's hands.

"I know, Hermione, I know! I'm just joking, so get your wand out of your arse. I know he's a bloody war hero, so are we! But that doesn't mean that I have to like him. He made a lot of my time miserable!" Hermione felt a bit of anger bubbling to the surface, and felt taken aback by it. Why, why, did she and Ron have to fight now? Their first conversation in two weeks, and they were already having it out. And over Severus bloody Snape, too.

"First of all, don't you dare tell me to get my wand out of my arse again, Ronald Weasley. I'll owl your mother, and don't think I won't. It's very disrespectful. And secondly, you greatly exaggerate the amount of so-called misery Snape caused you during school. If you don't want a bloody detention, don't bloody well do something to deserve it," she huffed, her expression growing cross. Ron continued to get more red.

"I can't believe you still stick up for that prick!"

"Ron!" she exclaimed, halting and turning to face him. He stopped where he was, steam practically spewing from his ears. "I've had enough of your foul mouth. What's gotten into you? We've barely been together five minutes and you're having a go. I thought you'd gotten past this... this... petty childhood dislike! I thought you understood that he is a colleague of mine now, a man who deserves respect- not to mention thanks! All the times he's saved our skins, all the things he's done for years trying to protect Harry and the wizarding world, and all you can do is call him a greasy git! It's like you're still thirteen sometimes, Ron!" she scolded him, exasperatedly.

"Yeah, well, it's like _you're_ still my bloody conscience! I meant it as a bit of fun, Hermione, not as-"

"As what, Ronald? As a disrespectful, not to mention hurtful comment?"

"Since when does my insulting Snape hurt you?"

"Ron, you don't even know Severus, you don't even try to understand him, not even a little. And while I certainly disapprove of your little nickname, I think the hurt if would inflict upon him if he were to hear you say it would be most damaging of all. Can you have a little compassion for him, Ron? His life has never been an easy one, you know this," Hermione pleaded, trying to keep her tone level. Her hair looked particularly wild, framing her flaming cheeks. She kept her clenched fists in check by her side. Ron scowled darkly; Hermione could tell that he was boiling inside, barely containing it within his head.

"Right. I'm going to go and see Hagrid. I'll see you for dinner, all right?" he explained tersely, before pivoting and stalking off angrily in the direction that they had come. Hermione closed her eyes, and attempted to tame her rage. She paced in front of the stone wall several seconds before releasing a mangled yell of exasperation and recklessly hurtling her fist into it. Immediately her stomach clenched in violent shock. Her knuckles made a cracking sound, and her legs melted from underneath her. "DAMMIT!" she cursed, cradling her excruciating injury with her other hand. She didn't even know how to process or soothe an injury like a broken hand, she just grasped her wrist and rocked on her knees, trying to calm her mind.

"Miss Granger?" she heard a deep voice from behind her. She whipped her head around to see none other than the Potions Master himself standing before her.

"Oh, thank Merlin... Professor Snape, I think I broke my hand," she said through clenched teeth. He looked at her through his tired, yet calculating eyes and knelt beside her. She bit her lip, fighting back tears that threatened to break through the shock.

"May I see your hand, Miss Granger," he said in his low, monotone voice. She slowly extended it to him. He gently held it in his palm as he examined it, noting where bruises were already beginning to form and where the stone had scraped her skin. She trembled at his touch, remarkably careful and firm. His hands were slightly rough, from years of dirty work and working with chemicals. But even through her pain, she examined his hand as he turned hers over, and couldn't help but think to herself that they were quite beautiful. He withdrew his wand from within his robes. He tapped her hand delicately with the tip, watching the purple and blue ebb away and the small nicks and gashes on her skin to reform into it's normal smooth, unblemished appearance. The gut-wrenching pain she had felt only moments before receded into mild nausea and trembling. He helped her to her feet and stowed his wand away.

"Thank you, Professor," she said, flexing her hand carefully and trying to regain her composure. Her emotions were so confused-a minute before she had been seething angry. Then she had been in excessive and mind-numbing pain. Now, she felt suddenly much older and much more tired than she really was; and she felt gratitude and sadness for the man who had helped her.

"It's the least I could do, Miss Granger," he replied, face unreadable and voice expressionless.

"Hermione, please," she requested, offering a tiny smile. He twitched at this, unsure of what to make of it.

"As you wish. If it troubles you anymore, see Madam Pomfrey or myself."

"I will, sir, I appreciate it. I'm so glad you happened along, I probably would've sat there in shock the rest of the night if you hadn't," she said, doing her best to show him how grateful she was. He nodded tersely at this, struggling with civility.

"Good evening, Miss-" he halted at her significant, hopeful look. "Hermione," he finished, sweeping off on his way. He hadn't walked five paces before he turned and looked at her quizzically.

"Am I to understand you struck your fist against the castle wall?" Hermione blushed.

"Er, yes, sir. I did." His eyebrows furrowed and his lips thinned, betraying his befuddlement.

"May I inquire as to what possessed you to do such a, forgive me, foolish thing?" He was now facing her head on, hands crossed regally behind his back.

"I... I had a fight with my fiance, that's all, sir. I was so upset I didn't even think about it... just threw it." She attempted to laugh at herself with a little shrug of her shoulders and a twisted smile. His eyes seemed to narrow at this, and she felt an uncomfortable stab of shame at her immature behavior and lack of self-control.

"I see," he said. He paused a moment longer, staring at her face. She tried to remain stoic and poised, despite his disconcerting gaze. Finally, he nodded, and continued walking away. As he rounded the corner, she sighed. A tear leaked out of her eye. She inhaled sharply, suddenly aware of the fact that she had not cried in her pain at all. Now, suddenly, the tears unleashed themselves- but her sorrow was for her relationship. She stood there for several seconds, teardrops sliding down her pale cheeks and down her neck. She leaned against the wall, slid down it and huddled herself on the floor. Burying her head between her knees, she began to sob in earnest and never noticed the shadowy figure that crept back along the corridor, feeling his old pain afresh in his own breast as he looked on.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione sat on the end of her deliciously comfortable blue sofa with her legs extended over her fiance's lap. Ron was staring at the fire, absentmindedly running his thumb over the arch of her foot. Hermione tried her best to suppress her embarrassment at her exposed feet- a feature of her physique she regarded with distaste. They weren't hideous by a long shot, but they were wide and plain and her toenails had a horrible habit of growing in the shape of squares, pointy edges included. Ron didn't seem to notice, though, so she tried to pass over her insecurity.

She was running their fight and reconciliation over in her head. It was extremely... odd. She had been fighting with Ron for years, and never had they ended an argument and made up in the same way as they had this one. In fact, she wasn't even sure of the point where they made up. It was like Ron was pretending nothing had even happened... which was suspicious, considering he had always been sure to make a big stink about everything. Even his announcement to go to Hagrid's instead of hashing it out had been uncharacteristic. The suppression of his anger, and even more the suppression of his angry outbursts, was naturally puzzling. His cheerful greeting at dinner and unhampered appetite was abrupt and forced in her mind, even now. She knew she looked as if she had been crying and she knew that her hair looked a bit wilted, but he pretended that he didn't even notice! Or maybe... maybe he _actually_ didn't notice. At least, he'd never paid particular attention to detail in that way before.

Maybe she had deluded herself all this time, believing in the fairy-tale transformation of Ron's habits and character. Maybe time didn't fix all his boyish ways. She studied his face in the firelight while he was still distracted. His physique was broad and masculine. He certainly was very tall, he always had been. But it was his face that betrayed that he was much younger than his age, even now. His eyes, though clouded and dim in his reverie were still unable to see things with the same amount of depth perception as she did. His mouth was enclosed by two faint creases to indicate the spectrum of his passionate emotions- giddy happiness, and poisonous anger. Searching, gazing intently on his face as she did now, she was suddenly alarmed to see that it indeed looked very different to her; she almost yanked her foot back in shock, as though a perfect stranger were touching her. She quelled this spontaneous revulsion and turned her face away to regain her composure.

No. _Stop thinking these thoughts, Hermione... these are just the negative voices in your head trying to make you pick everything apart. It's just a little case of cold feet, you're just nervous about spending the rest of your life with someone, it's an enormous commitment. Nobody's perfect, Hermione. You made the right decision, Ron is a good man, a good friend and someone you've known for a very long time. Pull yourself together. _

She felt much better after reassuring herself with these thoughts. She turned back to Ron and smiled to herself. _See? Nothing is so different as you imagine it to be. _She pulled her foot away, and simultaneously yanked Ron out of his passive daydream. She situated herself closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "Mmm. I've missed you, hun. I'm sorry we had to fight," she murmured, closing her eyes and relaxing into him. He brushed her hair from her face delicately.

"I've missed you too. I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I was just trying to, I dunno, lighten things up. And I won't tell you to get your wand out of your arse again." She laughed against his chest.

"Well... good. That was funny, I have to admit. But I don't want us to start off that way, I don't want our tactics to begin as merely crude ways of expressing ourselves and progress into something that builds resentment between us. Does that make sense? Or am I rambling because I'm tired?"

"Definitely rambling, love," Ron said. "You always were mental when you haven't got enough sleep," he joked. Hermione smiled. There was the gentle, funny, caring Ron she knew. She felt a burden she didn't know she had been carrying lift from her shoulders.

"I love you," she whispered, lifting her head off his chest to look into his eyes. He gazed into them, startled by the depth and devotion of her stare; was he under examination? The thought made him squirm on the inside. He held the look a moment longer, then captured her lips in his roughly. She reciprocated, wrapping her hands around his neck and moving to sit in his lap. He moaned, tangling his hands in her untamed curls and deepening the kiss. Hermione suddenly pulled away, gasping. She stayed a moment there, catching her breath, before she grinned at him, hopped off his lap, and brushed her shirt off.

"Well, busy day tomorrow! September is only a week away, I have to make sure my lesson plans are all finished and my classroom sufficiently prepared. As you so diplomatically put it, I'm 'mental when I haven't gotten enough sleep'... so, I'll see you in the morning, I suppose..." she trailed off, smiling impishly at him.

"Oh, no you don't!" he said, jumping to his feet and taking her wrists hostage before she could get too far away. She laughed at him, struggling against him. Suddenly she let out a yelp of pain, and he released her instantly. She instinctively clutched her right hand to her chest, cradling it protectively. Ron furrowed his brow at her in concern and confusion.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, concerned.

"Oh, no, Ron, it wasn't you. I had... uh, dropped something on my hand today, and it's still a little tender. I had Pr- Madam Pomfrey look at it, and she said it should be right as rain tomorrow. It wasn't anything you did," she assured him. _Where had this lie come from? _she wondered. But she quickly squelched her doubts about it; she didn't want him to know about how she had lost her temper, and she especially didn't want him knowing that Snape had been the one to heal her hand. It could only make matters worse, or at the very least, more complicated.

"Good to know, I was afraid I'd been too rough with you. I'm sorry, love, if I'd have known I wouldn't have grabbed your wrists like that," Ron said apologetically, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close.

"I know you wouldn't," she said, running her fingers down his arm. He shivered visibly. Hermione blushed and stepped out of his arms. Giving him a tender peck on the cheek, she turned towards her room. "Good night, Ron," she said softly.

"I missed you so much," he breathed suddenly. Hermione turned to look at him. She was shocked by what she saw on his face, something she couldn't name and didn't want to. A thin veil shone timidly over his blue eyes, tears that threatened to break loose. She searched him several seconds, before he suddenly composed himself, and coughed, looking down for a moment to hide what she had seen briefly. She felt tears of her own spring to her eyes, and she barely had time to say in a trembling, disconcerted voice "I missed you too", before fleeing to her bedroom.

The next morning at breakfast, Severus Snape could tell something was amiss in paradise as he glanced at Hermione Granger's troubled eyes. They were rimmed slightly with red, and dark circles, indicating that she hadn't gotten much sleep. Ronald Weasley was sitting next to her, wearing a bracingly cheerful expression that appeared more like a grimace. He was quite sure the boy had never taken so much time to eat his breakfast in his life. They didn't speak to each other, but Hermione patted his hand sweetly as she read her newspaper. Ron looked slightly surprised at this gesture, but oddly appeared more distraught by it than reassured. Hermione finished her toast and pumpkin juice and left shortly after, casting a weary backward glance at the table. Ron followed within a minute, and Snape could turn his attention to things that interested him more- like the fly buzzing around Professor Flitwick's hat, and a dent he had noticed on the back of his tarnished spoon.

If he was being honest with himself, the cares of Hermione Granger _were _more interesting than a fly or a dented spoon. Of course he didn't feel any silly affection for the girl- she had always been very obnoxious in her overbearing mission to please, and he _knew_ she had done some of Potter and Weasley's homework for them while they were in school (something he couldn't abide, but couldn't catch her at). But they had worked together for a year prior, and he had found (grudgingly) that her ideas were innovative and sound, and that she demonstrated a maturity beyond her years that commanded respect. Of course that's what made him so interested in this issue of hers with Weasley- he respected her. She had been one of the few to welcome him back to the school in a civil and understanding manner. Everyone else reeked of skepticism or sympathy; the first he was accustomed to, the second made him cringe.

The incident in the corridor the day previous had intrigued him most because it was uncharacteristic of her to lose control- and yet, had she really lost control? or had she actually exercised it in a way that spared the person she cared about? He sipped his black coffee thoughtfully. It made him wonder what things might have been if he'd had control, if he'd been able to shut his mouth when he should have... No. Lily didn't approve of what he was doing, who he was hanging round anyway, it was a matter of time before he did something to screw it up. He took another sip of potent coffee, preferring its bitterness to the kind he felt in his heart. He could still taste the word "Mudblood" on his tongue, still see her face in the forefront of his mind. He pushed his chair back abruptly, and swept from the room, wishing not for the first time that he had died.

Hermione was situated at the desk in her office carefully looking over her notes on Animagi for her seventh years. She made a note to ask Professor McGonagall if she would mind dropping by to demonstrate for the seventh years, and perhaps explain a bit of the process and experience of the transformation that only she could impart. She and Ron had taken a walk on the grounds after breakfast, holding hands and making light conversation. She was a little frustrated that she couldn't pin him down on any serious subject, though. She tried mentioning a wedding date twice and he shifted the subject- not to mention if he would mind searching for a house in the neighborhood of his parents and give up his rank, London bachelor pad. She had tried to discuss the idea of her continuing to teach at Hogwarts or not, and had exasperated him so thoroughly he finally sighed resignedly.

"Hermione, I know we don't see each other as often as we like, but that doesn't mean you have to cram in every important subject into one conversation. I just want to spend time with you, enjoy your company before I have to leave. We can talk about a date for the wedding via post, or maybe tonight at dinner," He had looked at her a little wearily, and reluctantly, as though afraid of setting her off. There she'd gone again, over-thinking, misinterpreting his actions as indicating commitment-phobia, when instead he'd just been trying to enjoy the moment. She sighed, put her quill in the inkwell to rest, and leaned back against her chair. She closed her eyes and spun it in lazy half circles side to side, trying to relax her mind. She heard the door open quietly. She opened her eyes to see that it was Ron, a letter sticking out of his pocket.

"Hey, Ron," she said, giving him a chipper smile.

"Hey," he replied, giving an equally broad grin. "What're you working on?" he asked, observing the fresh notes on her desk.

"Oh, just preparing for my 7th years. Animagi," she explained.

"Gonna have McGonagall come round and demonstrate?" he asked.

"If she will, yes. I just made a note to ask her. But if she's unavailable, I could always ask our friend Rita Skeeter," she added slyly. He laughed at this.

"That's a lovely bit of blackmail to hang on to. You're brilliant, Hermione, you know that?" She blushed at his compliment, and diverted the subject. "Where have you gotten off to?"

"Oh," he said, taken aback. He withdrew the letter from his pocket. "Owlery," he said, unfolding it, scanning its contents and replacing it on the inside of his robes. Hermione watched his face turn from happy to unreadable in a moment.

"Important letter?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah," he said, shaken from his gravitas. "From work," he added, giving a jerk of the head.

"Oh," she sighed softly. "I take it they need you back, then?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he pleaded. He couldn't stand how crestfallen she looked.

"It's fine, I shouldn't have expected them to allow you the time off they said they would. It's the Ministry," she griped, getting up from her seat and taking a position facing him instead.

"I came to say good-bye for now, I swear to you Hermione, I'll get off again as soon as I can-"

"I know you will, Ron. It's just that I'll miss you. Still, it's... it's better this way," she said, trying to convince herself. "I'll have more time to prepare for classes, you'll get more experience and credibility in the office. It's not like we can't write," she mumbled, crossing her arms and leaning against her desk. Ron gingerly disentangled her arms and took her hands in his. He kissed the one that had hurt the night before.

"I'll tell them that I want the whole of next weekend off, and that they can boil their heads if they don't like it," he said, that familiar dark and determined look on his face. Hermione giggled.

"Oh, Ron. You grow up more every day, but you always look the same to me," she said, smoothing his hair with her hand.

"I hope you're saying that fifty years from now. We Weasley men are known to retain our good looks."

"Like baldness and glasses? I look forward to it, my dear," she said kissing his nose.

"You minx. I'll miss you. I'll write you soon," he said, kissing her on the lips.

"Please do," she murmured against his mouth. "And tell Harry that I don't care how busy he is at that desk of his, I miss him too, and expect a letter soon!"

"Will do, my love," he said, grabbing a handful of floo powder from the bowl by the fireplace. A moment later he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione sipped her tea in the staff room, savoring the last evening of August. The house-elfs had been in a mad rush all day preparing the castle, as was everyone else. She had been caught off guard last year by the day before term, and had therefore anticipated it this time around. She seemed to be the only one with all of her ducks in a row for the students arrival the following day, at least that she had seen all day. Ron had owled her that morning at breakfast to let her know that he was going to be unable to visit her despite his adamant promise due to an emergency raid abroad. He had apologized profusely, emphasizing his regret.

_...I swear to you, Hermione, I tried so hard to get out of it. But Kingsley insisted that they needed me, and I couldn't leave. Can I come visit you sometime this week for lunch instead? I want to make it up to you._

_Love,_

_Ron_

_P.S. Harry says hello. _

Hermione had folded the letter back up, and calmly placed it in her pocket. She wished she could say she was more disappointed, but she knew in her heart that he wouldn't be able to come. It was a surprisingly easy blow to recover from, she had found. Swirling the tea leaves in her cup, she drained the last bit in the bottom and stood up. She marked her place in the book she had been reading, left the mug and spoon for the house elves, and made to leave. As she opened the door, she squealed in surprise and dropped her book as she ran into Professor Snape. He looked perturbed more than surprised and took a step backwards to put distance between them as she straightened herself out.

"Professor, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed.

"It's no matter," he said stiffly, obviously waiting for her to leave so that he could pass by.

"Still, I apologize if I startled you," she said. He bent down and picked up her book off of the floor. Pausing to examine the title, he quirked a brow.

"7 Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches?" he smirked, his eyes glinting in the low light with amusement.

"Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but aren't you engaged? To a _wizard_?" his lip curled slightly, in something that resembled a smile (more like a sneer) so far as he was capable of one. Hermione could not have blushed more deeply had she tried. She quickly took the book from him and guarded it by her side.

"Well, yes. I am. I... It's not really your business why I'm reading it. In fact, it isn't really mine, it's uh, Harry's."

"Indeed? I would think that the Chosen One would hardly need any help attracting women... don't they flock to him in swarms?" he sneered.

"Look, I don't need to take any flack from you, alright? It's not been a particularly good month for me, if you must know, and I think that my fiance is... well, he's busy."

"Busy? Meaning with someone besides you?" he questioned.

"No! No! Ron would never... never... no," she denied, fervently shaking her head, cursing her lead tongue.

"No, he's just... not been around much. Busy with work, the Auror department is very demanding of him," she replied, her lips pursing in annoyance.

"I see," he responded vacantly, not sure how to continue this conversation. He was smacked over the head with the realization that he was _actually _having this conversation with Hermione Granger about _Weasley_. The pure oddity of it almost made him laugh, it was incredibly bizarre. Shaking himself out of his train of thought, he reminded himself that he had no _interest _in continuing this conversation. Abruptly stalking past her, he dismissed her with a "Good evening."

"Good evening, Severus," she said through clenched teeth, not turning to acknowledge him. She blustered down the hallway, stalking passed a startled Mrs. Norris and Nearly-Headless-Nick. Sometimes that man could be so insufferable! What business of his was it what she was reading and to what end she was reading it? She hadn't been lying, it really was Harry's copy. Whether or not if he knew she had it went without comment. And whether or not she was reading it because she suspected Ron was playing her also went without comment. She was surprised at the conviction in her denial to Snape of Ron's possible infidelity- she didn't _feel_ as certain as she had sounded. In her head, she knew that he wouldn't ever do something to hurt her intentionally in that way. But in her heart she knew that he was still young, still a bit wild, and still volatile.

"No, he wouldn't. We've been best friends for years, we survived a war together, we've held it together this long. Of course there's no one else, what am I thinking?" she muttered to herself, frustrated. Slamming the door to her apartment rather loudly, she threw the book with contempt on the table. She felt a strange feeling of helplessness standing still in the middle of her living room. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something that would ease her confusion. She strode to her desk and pulled a piece of precision cut parchment from it's appointed drawer. She pulled out a Muggle ball point pen, and began to think with the tip poised above the paper.

_Why am I feeling _(Hermione paused to select the right word to describe her feelings) _so uneasy about my relationship with Ron?_

_*I am insecure in my appearance_

_*I am insecure about being lovable_

_*I am overly selective_

_*I am overly critical_

_*I think too much_

_*I'm unsure of/wish to postpone my commitment to marry Ron?_

_*Ron is behaving strangely_

_*Ron is not willing to discuss certain commitments or things of importance (with relation to commitment)_

_*Ron is canceling the bulk of our meetings (with the common excuse being work)_

_*Ron is engaging in more fights _

_*Ron is pretending as though everything is fine after said fights_

Hermione looked over this list carefully, making sure she had hit general and specific points of her disquiet, being sure to include herself in her scrutiny.

_Option One: I can confront Ron about what I've been feeling, and we can have a reasonable discussion about what is or isn't going on and what we can do to improve our connection._

_ -Anticipated Reaction One: Ron will flip his lid and become very angry._

_ -Anticipated Reaction Two: Ron will feel guilty and apologetic._

_ -Anticipated Reaction Three: Ron will feel guilty and apologetic, but nothing will change._

_Option Two: I can continue on in this uncertain agony, and maybe time will change my feelings._

_ -Anticipated Reaction One: None of my anxieties will be relieved and will result in destructive as well as self-destructive behavior that could poison my relationship with Ron and his family._

_ -Anticipated Reaction Two: Pre-wedding jitters will subside (post-wedding) and Ron and I will settle into married bliss, and I will forget all about my feelings of doubt and suspicion. _

_Option Three: I can _

Hermione stopped. She had been about to write that she could break things off with Ron. She dropped her pen on the desk, the sudden noise causing a displeased Crookshanks to mew and retreat to the bedroom. Hermione covered her face with her hands and shook her head back and forth. She was getting into this too deep. She really needed to talk about this with someone, but she had absolutely no idea who. She was ashamed of feeling so unsure of Ron's affections, she felt disloyal. She felt a hot tear leak out of her eye, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. She tapped option three with her wand and the ink faded away. She folded the list and put it in her pocket to review later, when she was feeling more rational. Tired and weary, she shrugged off her robe and left it on her chair for the next day. She slowly sauntered into the bedroom where Crookshanks was resting on her bed, and she stroked his squashed ears.

"Oh, Crooks. I don't know what I should do," she sighed. She slipped out of her plain black dress and arranged her mass of bushy curls in a disorganized bun on the top of her head. She stepped into a steaming tub of bubbles and soothing water, and pointed her wand at the gramophone in the corner. _Clair de Lune_ began to drift from the speaker, and Hermione felt the tension dissolved from her shoulders. She glided through the water, her toes barely touching the bottom as she swayed back and forth. Closing her eyes and tilting her head back, she allowed her thoughts to drift away from Ron and away from the Transfiguration classes she had to begin teaching again in two days time. She thought of her parents for some strange reason. She suddenly missed them terribly. She suddenly missed all the months and years she had lost with them away at school, gone to war. She began to feel acutely the sadness they must have felt as well, their only daughter there one day and plucked away the next. She made a mental note to visit home this weekend; spend the whole weekend with her Mum and Dad and try and make up for lost time. Maybe they would have some answers about Ron...

After drying off with a fluffy, periwinkle towel she slipped on a modest nightgown (paying careful attention to brushing her teeth, of course) and crawled in between her sheets. Crookshanks came to curl up beside her, and purred comfortingly. She stroked his back and drifted off, listening to the strains of a slow melody still playing on the gramophone. She hummed along softly, "_Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away... catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day..."_

"Tomorrow is going to be a good day, Crooks. There's the Sorting to look forward to, the Welcome Feast... Professor Flitwick has been corresponding with the choir, I believe, and there's bound to be a rather nice performance from them. Well, as far as a choir of thirteen year olds is nice."

She nodded off to a faded and melancholy Ella Fitzgerald tune, and the contented sounds of her darling cat.

AN: Sorry that it's taken me so long to post. I promise I won't delay so long for the next chapter. Please tell me what you think! Which option should Hermione pursue, confrontation or ignoring her intuition? Lots of love! ~Lady Annabelle II


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